While attempting this repair,
we discovered that the highlift jack was damaged. Must have happened when
we accidentally ran over it in Mazatlan after it came loose from the front
bumper. The pivot pin for the jack handle was lost, but it didn’t take
Todd and Dave long to solve the problem using their clever Peace Corps
ingenuity. They replaced the pin with a drill bit, which made for a fine
temporary solution.

Crowds frequently gather here
when a vehicle problem arises. I can only image what they’re saying to
one another. Even in a remote area, people seem to find us when we have
problems with the Rovers.

Even the kids and their pig
gathered around. They had fun laughing at the loony Americans solving
their problems in a flurry.

That night in Fray de las Casas,
we stayed in the worst inn you could possibly imagine. The innkeeper had
sprayed the rooms with pesticide, and cockroaches were coming out of the
woodwork (literally) in their last gasps for fresh air.

fresh air. He must have just
finished spraying, because there were only a couple roaches on the floor
when we entered. After an hour, though, dozens were making their
final appearance. We informed the innkeeper (I’d call him "the manager,"
but this guy was no manager). He came into the room and kicked
the dead bugs around for a moment, then mumbled a few Spanish phrases
to Dave and left. We asked Dave what he said, and Dave translated. "He
said, they’re dead aren’t they? Why do you care? They’re dead! They can’t
hurt you if they’re dead." The next morning, we awoke to a floor covered
with dead roaches. They were everywhere. Probably two hundred or more.
One flew into my mouth while I was sleeping but I was too tired to care.
Looking back, I can’t believe we stayed in that room.